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Tie the strings to my life, my Lord, Then I am ready to go! Just a look at the horses— Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side, So I shall never fall; For we must ride…

Through the strait pass of suffering— The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God— A stately—shriven—Company— Convulsion—playing round— Harmless—as streaks of Meteor— Upon a Planet’s Bond— Their faith—the everlasting troth— Their Expectation—fair— The Needle—to the North Degree— Wades—so—thro’ polar Air!

Through the Dark Sod—as Education— The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidation— Her faith—no fear— Afterward—in the Meadow— Swinging her Beryl Bell— The Mold-life—all forgotten—now— In Ecstasy—and Dell—

Through lane it lay—through bramble— Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road. The wolf came peering curious— The owl looked puzzled down— The serpent’s satin figure Glid stealthily along— The tempests touched our garments—…

Three times—we parted—Breath—and I— Three times—He would not go— But strove to stir the lifeless Fan The Waters—strove to stay. Three Times—the Billows tossed me up— Then caught me—like a Ball— Then made Blue faces in my face— And pushed…

Those who have been in the Grave the longest— Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way— Foot of the Bold did least attempt it— It—is the White Exploit— Once to achieve, annuls the…

Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas— Who stay upon the Wall In Everlasting Keepsake— Can Anybody tell? We trust—in places perfecter— Inheriting Delight Beyond our faint…

Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine— Still, my little Gypsy being I would far prefer, Still, my little sunburnt bosom To her Rosier, For, when Frosts, their…

Tho’ I get home how late—how late— So I get home – ’twill compensate— Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me— When Night—descending—dumb—and dark— They hear my unexpected knock— Transporting must the moment be— Brewed from…

This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound— It beckons, and it baffles— Philosophy—don’t know— And through a Riddle, at the last— Sagacity, must go— To guess it, puzzles scholars— To gain…